


The Dirty Trick

by ladygrange



Category: Jimmy Page - Fandom, Led Zeppelin, classic rock - Fandom
Genre: F/M, Jimmy Page - Freeform, Led Zeppelin - Freeform, Oral Sex, Robert Plant - Freeform, sort of a twisting between past and present
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-28
Updated: 2018-11-28
Packaged: 2019-09-01 15:42:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,814
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16768072
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ladygrange/pseuds/ladygrange





	The Dirty Trick

_ November 1 _ _ st _ _ 1974 - Plumpton Place _

Silky tendrils drag and tickle along her back, rousing her for a moment before she drifts off again.

“Wake up, my darling.” His voice elicits a little groan from her and she scoots closer to her pillow, still groggy. Small kisses connect between her shoulder blades. “You’ve got to.”

She doesn’t find this compelling enough to throw the covers off or even lift her head. Jimmy shakes her lightly.

“No,” she mumbles into the pillow. 

“You’re still upset about last night,” he says, a smile in his tone. “It was all in good fun.”

She burrows deeper into her nest and tries to shove the night away. But it’s too close for comfort and her palpable hangover drags the memory up in fuzzy color.

\---

_ October 31 _ _ st _ _ 1974 - Chislehurst Caves _

Shadows flickered across rough stonework, the product of numerous torches flaming to light their way. She would have been worried about a fire hazard if Jimmy hadn’t insisted on a few drinks before arriving. A larger cave opened up, with a band in hectic swing already. The partiers ranged from lavish furs to faded Showco t-shirts that blended into the dark recesses of Chislehurst. 

“Unreal,” she marveled, taking a glass of wine from a passing server, whose apparent nun’s habit was devoid of a back. “I thought you were only considering the fire-eaters.”

Jimmy’s hand coasted up her velvet-clad waist, a perfect match to his own ensemble. “Enjoy it while it lasts, darling. Opulence is expensive.”

She hummed over her glass. “I pity the clean up crew.”

Jimmy expertly wound them through hordes of people. Journalists, photographers, musicians, even the odd hangers-on came to greet them, few of them gaining more than a quiet sentence. His reticent tactics failed them, much to her dismay, at a particularly dedicated writer. She couldn’t remember the man’s name but by the thirteenth question, she didn’t care.

She searched the crowd for an escape, trying for subtle nods here and there, but the air had a haze to it, the hum of voices and laughter blended into an unintelligible roar. She grew impatient as Jimmy’s fingers dug unaware into her waist with each successive question about the new LP. She finally craned her neck at a recognizable squawk echoing through the cave, followed shortly by a sprouting of blonde curls bobbing along the outer limits of the crowd. She extracted herself before Jimmy could grab her back and began her way through the crush.

\---

“You left me with that journalist,” Jimmy says, drawing her out of the memory. “A cruel thing to do, my darling.”

She doesn’t reply, her eyelids sealed shut, and head now buried under a pillow. Jimmy shifts and attempts to separate her from the mattress but she remains motionless, her thoughts circling into the chaos she’d been dragged into.

\---

“I see they let just anybody in here,” she said, eye level to Robert’s fur-trimmed shoulder. “You look ridiculous, by the way.”

Robert met her with a grin and a pulled the edge of his cape dramatically around her. “You’ve been spending too much time with Jimmy, I see. Pity, there’s really no fun to be had.”

She examined the nearly empty bottle of wine clasped in his hand. “You’ve got a cheap brand of fun,” she replied. “I think my odds are better than yours.”

“Is that why you’re wobbling like that?” Robert squeezed her into his side and laughed. “There’s not a heel on earth to help you.”

She swatted his chest. “Says the man with doves embroidered on his crotch. True class, Rob. I applaud you.”

“Thank you, love. I-” He broke off to look just beyond her, where Bonzo was escorting Lisa Robinson and Maggie Bell toward them. The two women were striking in their differences; Lisa’s slender height emphasized with elbow length black gloves and a glossy bob. Maggie, hanging onto Bonzo, stood at least a foot shorter, with a head of curls and a big smile. “I see you three have made the most of the party.”

“We’re the new musketeers,” Lisa responded drily. She glanced at both of them. “Where’s Jimmy, and his murderously sharp lapels?”

Robert answered before she had the chance. “Danny got ahold of him, probably wants another quote on the new album.”

Bonzo reached for Robert’s wine bottle and guzzled the rest in one go. “Our album? I thought this was for Rogers’s group. No, hang on...The Pretty Things, that Silk Torpedo.”

Maggie grabbed the bottle. “Your memory’s addled John Henry.”

“So is the ice sculpture,” Lisa added. “I just saw a couple of roadies get ahold of it. I do hope they stick their tongues to it.”

She tried to hide her laugh against Robert’s cape but Lisa turned her attention over. “What about you, dear? Can’t you give a peek into the newest Zeppelin?”

She cleared her throat, “Well, let’s see. It’s plastic, and black. Got a very nice label as well.” 

\---

Jimmy’s voice pulls her from the party and back to the coziness of their bed. “You’ve been asleep for far too long. Any longer and I’ll have to get a bucket of ice.”

She blows at the annoying strand of hair stuck to her bottom lip. After a second of struggle, Jimmy pries it off and kisses her cheek. “I know you tend to get lazy when cross but it wasn’t that bad.”

She cracks an eye at him. “It was that bad. You were cackling, I could hear it.”

Jimmy grimaces in a poor attempt to stifle his amusement. “I wouldn’t,” he clears his throat at her fully awake, disgruntled expression. “I wouldn’t dare, my darling.”

He leans in for a kiss but she squirms away on her side. “You need a shave, you’re all scratchy.”

Jimmy scoffs, his chest against her back. “You never complained about the beard, darling. I remember you saying it was... how did you put it? Satisfying and viril?”

She reaches around to cuff his shoulder. “I did  _ not _ say that, Jimmy.”

He steals a kiss and hums against her lips. “It was something along those lines.”

Her comeback dissolves into another kiss and gets distracted in his search for her breast. Jimmy cups the weight and tugs at her bottom lip. She pushes into his hold, seeking the delicious pinch of his fingers. A sigh breaks from her mouth when he rolls the skin lightly and Jimmy pulls away with an amused sound.

“You did look pretty in all that red,” he chuckles, far too entertained. “And I’m stealing that bit about our LP being plastic and black.”

“Ugh.” She sinks back into the pillows and snatches the covers for insulation. “Don’t remind me.”

He doesn’t have to, the look recalls almost every progression, down to the sticky end.

\---

They’d shifted briefly to Chislehurst’s extensive history, courtesy of Maggie, who proved to be a virtual biography on its usefulness in the second World War. Twenty-three miles worth of cave system, she had said, housing civilians during bombings, while Bonzo made a sport with the passing finger foods. His aim was poor but it didn’t make much difference, especially to one well-dressed woman’s face. Lisa took a drink for every piece of pastry and sandwich thrown until Bonzo made a grab for the olive resting in her glass. Eventually, the game wore thin, Robert’s laughter taking on the slurred consequences of drink, and Bonzo began asking for Phil.

“Which one?” she asked, a tipsy note to her question. “Carson or Carlo?”

Bonzo’s reply was lost to Danny Goldberg approaching. He sidled up to the group, kissing Lisa and Maggie’s cheek in turn. “Evening all, and a Happy Halloween.”

She gathers her wits for a second and gives Danny a questioning look. “Hang on, Danny. Where’s Jimmy?”

“Jerry caught him,” Danny said ruefully, taking her hand and kissing the back.

“Which one?” Robert asked with a grin. “Nah, don’t answer that. Bonz, what were you saying?”

Bonzo shrugged. “Did we get those naked wrestlers Pagey mentioned? I’d like to see that. Where’s Hinton and Cole?”

“We’re not bloody Scotland Yard,” Robert said. “Go on and find them yourself.”

Bonzo’s gleeful grin caught Lisa’s attention from her exchange with Danny. Taking Maggie by the hand, she said a quick goodbye. 

“I think we’ll go watch,” Lisa said over her shoulder, following Bonzo to the neighboring cave. “Come on, Danny. And tell Page if you see him, I’ll get that interview before it’s over.”

She and Robert shared a glance. “That,” she said evenly, “cannot end well.”

\---

“She called me a bastard.”

Jimmy’s disgruntled voice pierces her thoughts and she turns from the covers to look at him warily. He’s tangled up with her, legs pressed between her own, a frown on his face. Suddenly, he perks up.

“But you know, darling, the caves were historically significant for the Druids and even the Saxons. Their carvings are still on the walls, wonderfully creepy. Then, they were used as chalk mines for some time.”

She closes her eyes again. “Now I know where Maggie learned all that. You could’ve been a historian, Jim.”

“And you do an evocative impression of a possum playing dead,” Jimmy says, hand on her shoulder, rocking her. “Surely you can’t still be thinking of the party?”

She scoots over and takes the pillow on his side, trying her best to block him out. His hand jostles her again, and she sticks her forefinger out without lifting her head. 

“Don’t.”

“My darling.” He’s got too reasonable a tone on. She releases a sigh into the pillow when he starts burrowing under the covers with her. “If you don’t get up I’ll tell you the complete history of the Druids.”

She glowers and moves away from him. “I’m going to bathe.”

“Now wait a second,” Jimmy protests, reaching around her waist. “You can’t leave in a mood.”

“I’m not in a mood,” she says. Then hastily, before he can protest. “And there’s no way to say that without sounding like I am.”

Jimmy switches tack and rolls her to her back, both of them under the covers. “Let me make it up to you, darling.”

She lets him work her over without a word. His lips tracking indistinct whispers and kisses across her skin. But she can’t shake the memory, like a tape replaying under her mind.

\---

Beep emerged before them wearing a silver boa and a pinstriped suit, what looked like glitter dazzled on his cheeks. It was a flamboyance only he could pull off. He gestured behind him.

“I believe this belongs to you.”

Jimmy followed a moment later, his collar popped up, a harrassed set to his lips that suggested one too many photos were taken. She stepped away from Robert to fix him.

“Having fun, darling?” he asked, looking down at her.

“Something like that,” she said with a firm pat to his lapels. “Robert was in the middle of a scheme.”

“Fitting for a full moon,” Jimmy said, taking her hand and nodding to Robert. “I saw Bonzo join the wrestlers, after mucking with the strippers for a bit.”

Beep let out a snort and began inspecting Robert. “I thought you were done filming, Perce. Is this a new trend of yours?”

Robert scoffed but it came out with a belch, and he was leaning too heavily on the wall. “You’re one to talk, Beep. Why don’t you help me convince  _ her _ to join in the plan instead of taking the piss?”

She faced Robert while Jimmy’s hands linked around her waist. “Now, Rob, don’t be demure. I think all of us admire the great sacrifices you make for fashion, good taste being the first one.”

Robert grinned and crossed his arms, mouth open to respond, but Jimmy intervened. 

“Darling,” he admonished. “What’s the scheme, mate?”

His grin widened to the gums. “I think a prank is in order, good old fashioned fun, Pagey. We should-”

A ruckus of sounds exploded nearby, the band on their makeshift stage transitioning to Little Richard covers. She pressed her fingers to her ears and shot Jimmy a pained look. Beep, unphased, draped his boa across Jimmy and abruptly grabbed him by the wrist. She lowered her hands just in time to hear Beep shout. 

“They’re here!”

\---

“Who was there?” she blurts out, as Jimmy kisses her neck. “I never knew...”

“I told you in the car, darling,” Jimmy says. “Ahmet and I believe a couple of other executives. Remember, I told you one poor fellow got ambushed by a stripper. Absolute hysteria, jelly everywhere.” His eyes flit to hers and the embarrassment on her face. “Don’t worry, my darling, it wasn’t nearly as bad as your situation. ”

She shifts in bed to hide her fluster but Jimmy catches her, his body pins her down. She rolls her lips and shrugs. “At least I didn’t get shanghaied into dozens of photographs.”

“No rest for the wicked,” Jimmy replies evenly, placing a kiss on her sternum. “A downside to being the producer.”

“I still can’t believe it,” she says, more to herself than him, her hand propped on her forehead. “I thought surely a food fight would break out but no...”

Jimmy clasps her sides and rests his chin on her ribcage. “I’m doing some of my best work here, darling, and you’re missing it with your brooding. Would you like me to leave the room?”

Her eyes narrow and her lips tense to stop the smile there. “No, but I’m not quite done yet.” 

Jimmy presses his mouth to her ribs in a wet kiss and inches lower down her belly. She furrows her brows and drops the hand at her forehead, ruminating once again.

\---

“Looks like it’s just you and me, love,” Robert said. He slung an arm around her; his tone caused a wave of suspicion to course through her. “Now how about that plan. Would you like to be the diversion this time?”

She pursed her lips. “How you could suggest my involvement,” she said innocently, “I just don’t know.”

“You don’t?” Robert arched his brow. “Huh, guess I’ve got the wrong woman.”

“Guess so,” she said, taking another sip of wine. 

“And that ordeal with the, ah, molasses? That was just hearsay?”

“It was jam, actually,” she said, too late, cursing herself for Robert’s victorious expression.

“Now was that a confession I just heard?”

Before she knew it Robert had her glass and the last sip in one move. She frowned.

“Thief.”

“Bonzo took mine,” he explained. “If you’re really not going to help me, how about a dance? In exchange for eternal secrecy on the jam situation.”

She rolled her eyes and squared her shoulders. “If I got a mirror on wheels, you’d dance with it.”

He waved that away. “Tried it before, the steps are too tricky that way. Much easier with a two-legged being such as yourself. Then again, maybe you’re just afraid I’ll show you out.”

“No,” she countered, snagging another glass of wine from a nun. “Afraid I’ll lose a toe or two.”

Robert clucked his tongue. “You’ve become a bore.”

She knew the next big gulp of wine was a poor decision but the glass was nearly half empty already, her words slid easily off her tongue. “Harsh words from the Prince of Peace. Will they take away your medal?”

Robert tapped a finger against his chin and continued as though she hadn’t spoken. “You and Jimmy’ll be heading to the Grange soon, I suppose.”

She eyed him warily. “You suppose correctly.”

“Like clockwork.”

“You’re implying something, Robert?”

He grinned, all teeth. “Remember when there was fun?”

“I remember more Heinz beans than I care to,” she returned.

“Ah, yes, caught Bonzo at the right time, didn’t we? He never suspected a thing, then Jimmy got his...” He was immersed in his own imaginings, gesturing with his hands and repeatedly pushing his hair away from his face. She didn’t need him to remind her of the fiasco that ensued, being dumped into the deep end of a pool in Massachusetts in the early spring was a chilling recollection. “And remember-”

She cut him off. “Remember when you had sense? Has bleaching finally taken its toll?”

Robert looked at her like she’d ruined his fun and adopts a mournful tone. “No, but that last glass might’ve done the job. Not that I’m too far gone for a dance, that is.” 

She jabbed his side. “You’re a pest, Rob.”

In an unsubtle move, Robert attempted to guide her closer to the center of the cave, where those so inclined were dancing in, most off-beat to the music. She stopped him short and he pouted at her.

“Jimmy’s still cornered doing something or other,” He pulled a tone of mock disappointment. “Who knows how long that’ll take, and listen,” he grabbed her wine once again, “I might even twirl you.”

“Robert,” she said, as sternly as she could manage while steadying herself on his arm. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but I would rather sit on a red hot poker.”

He leaned down, close to her ear, his voice loaded with innuendo. “You mean you and Jimmy haven’t-”

Her hand flew up to his mouth, red-faced, watching as he knocked back her glass. Wine had taken her reason and replaced it with bubbled dizziness. 

“Fine,” she said, then a hasty warning. “But no twirls.”

Another teeth filled smile, a drunken alligator. “I make no promises.”

\---

Jimmy raises his head from its kissing spot at her belly button when she groans. He makes a tent under the covers, his teeth visible to her, a white flash. 

“You of all people should know to let sleeping lions rest, darling.”

She wrinkles her nose at him. “He was drunk as a lord, Jimmy. Plus, he deserves it.”

Jimmy nips her skin, the sharp bite making her knee jump. His hair is spread over her sides and pools onto the sheets. She’s distracted in that for a moment, thinking that he could use a trim for the ends. Only when he bites again doesn’t she snap out of herself.

“We’re not boring,” she protests, but it comes out as a question. “We do things...”

She can feel his smile on her. “I couldn’t agree more, darling. Right now, for instance, I’m doing something.” 

He shimmies lower to lavish and suck along her hipbone and her legs instinctively spread for him. Jimmy makes an appreciative sound as he shoulders her legs. 

“Yes,” she murmurs, “but you know what I mean.”

“I do,” he assures her. “I know that you’re tenacious sometimes, darling. Leave the thought alone. Let me make it up to you.”

“A bribe...” Humor tinges her voice and her eyes search the dark head bent over her.

He rubs his prickly face along her inner thigh and a twinge of awareness spreads in her tummy. 

“Compensation, of the physical sort,” he corrects playfully, with a few kisses pasted to her knees. “Your favorite.”

She has a half-formed thought in her head, a fleeting impression of the night’s swirling end, but Jimmy’s taking her hips in hand and tugging her closer with a hungry look. She bites her lip while her mind simmers backward.

\---

“I’m going to lead, yes?”

The back fall of her dress drooped low and Robert’s palm filled the space at her words, bringing her close so fast they almost knocked foreheads. He led them near the stage, just before one of the coffins filled with jelly, complete with a nude blonde rolling around inside. 

“I’ll lead,” he said, taking position with one of their arms stretched out. “If you have no objections.”

She tried to straighten her shoulders but the giddiness of the night made her want to slump into him. She adopted a serious expression and met his gaze.

“Sure you can handle the responsibility?”

“It’s my talent, love,” he said. “Next to singing, of course.”

“Of course,” she nodded. 

The gap between the crowd and the stage wasn’t much but a preliminary sashay drew a laugh from her. The steps weren’t as dangerous as she thought they would be, but the floor is uneven and she was almost certain she was going trip soon. Robert turned them to the music and she clung to him.

“I hope you actually  _ do  _ know what you’re doing, Rob,” she said.

Robert hugged her closer and didn’t miss a beat. “Cross my heart. Just don’t look down.”

\---

Between the fog of the night before and the sweet pleasure of Jimmy’s mouth hunting kisses toward her sex, she finds her head raised from the pillows to watch him, her breathing shallow, the undeniable ache forming into a thob. Jimmy stops short between her legs to meet her gaze, still under the covers, still with that hungry face. 

“Are you still thinking of it?”

Palms press warm at the backs of her thighs, urging them up, and his thumbs slide between her crease to spread her open. Her memory frays at the thick drop of spit that falls from his lips to the exposed pink of her sex.

She tugs her bottom lip between her teeth. “Maybe...”

\---

The tango didn’t fit the music but half the band was playing a different Fats Domino tune so she wasn’t too bothered. Robert was surprisingly good, even when they were twirling and she didn’t know how that happened but the walls were spinning and she heard Robert’s squawk near her ear, her own laugh joining in. She could not remember what was funny. The alcohol in her blood kept her from being too self-conscious when she noticed how many people had gathered around, watching them. She shrunk into Robert and attempted to scan the boisterous crowd for Jimmy. 

“I’ll give you a tenner if you get up there and sing,” Robert said suddenly, bringing them right to the stage.

“You’re on a roll, Rob,” she said, trying to lead them away and only partially succeeding. “Were the quaaludes especially strong this evening?”

For that, he dipped her low and loosened his grip for a split second, a laugh following her frightened expression. He brought her upright.

“We didn’t even get into it at New York or L.A.,” he protested. “Well, not much at least. It can be a duet, or you can get on the piano. You still play, don’t you? Give me some suggestions, love.”

“Robert, please,” she groaned. Robert picked up the pace and her dress swished against her ankles, the twirl making her head spin. She shook her head but that made it worse and Robert was attempting another dip. The piano rang in her ears.

\---

Her breath catches and she looks away from the decorative molding on the ceiling. Jimmy sucks one puffy fold into his mouth, then the other. Her mind’s eye clashes with the image before her, she had seen him directly after the fiasco, she remembered his jacket draped over her torso, a new glass of wine pressed into her sticky hands. Or maybe it was Scotch. She can’t recall when he traces the swollen crest of her clit with his tongue

It’s an exercise, a display expertly carried out to demolish coherent thought into the sweetest ache she’s ever known. Before she decides to, she reaches for his hair, fingers knotted near his crown. 

There’s an easy bloom of want in the nestle and nudge of his nose on her skin, in his tongue patterned wetly over her center. It goes tense when he removes one palm from her thigh to reach his fingers through her wetness, filling her in a slow slip. He raises his head once again.

“Have you forgotten now?”

“Almost,” she breathes, a smile playing after her words.

\---

The stoney, gray background was a blur, along with the colorful guests swarming around them. There was a strange frequency to the amount of noise around her. Each revolution they made warped her perception, until she glimpsed Robert’s stunned face and felt his hand slip from hers, the floor disappearing under the momentum of their dance. Knees out, she hit something hard and fell backward into a squishy substance. 

The smell was cloying and artificially sugared. 

Crowd noise surged and a squeak sounded beneath her: the blonde, the open coffin, the jelly, all somehow surrounded her. The faces of the band crowded at the stage’s edge to look down; she thought she saw John Paul, slack-jawed, on upright bass. Hands immediately reached into the space and the stripper started to giggle in her ear.

Her mouth tasted of strawberry.

\---

“What about now?” 

She fumbles with the heavy duvet and manages to throw it over Jimmy’s shoulders. Morning light from the windows splashes across his upraised face, the line of him warm in the white linens, lips glistening from her arousal. A slow, goofy smile spreads across his face and lifts his cheeks; he’s a mess of curls and soft jawline. The sight ropes her heart and drags it to her throat in a solid thump that saturates her chest. 

Jimmy takes her back into his mouth, where she’s wet and wanting, and fucks her slowly on his fingers, curling them up each time, until she’s weak-necked on the pillow. At her whimper, he flattens his tongue and she rolls her hips into the wet abrasion, using him, the encouraging inflection of his voice making her thighs clamp over his ears.

Her mouth opens on a cry at the peak, abandoned to the constrictions around his fingers, to his lips nursing her clit. Jimmy makes a vise of his hands to keep her still until she’s gone soft and pliant from pleasure. She allows him to roll her over once more and sighs into the pillow when he positions himself.

He’s hard and flush and leaves a stripe of wetness on her backside. The anticipation makes her turn her face to the side and raise her bottom. Jimmy groans low and rubs himself against her folds. Then they’re tucked together, tight and intimate with one smooth glide, his hip bones pressed into her ass. He crosses both her hands at the small of her back and holds them in one fist. It forces her belly and shoulders further into the mattress, cheek squished and legs wedged just far enough to accommodate him. She makes a soft, stunned noise at the position.

“You like it this way, my darling?” Jimmy asks through a panting breath. 

She wants to nod, push back, but she can’t make her muscles respond. They’re lax from the first orgasm, sensitive to the second, responsive when Jimmy withdraws and gives her a savage thrust. The sudden heavy fullness makes her eyes water and her throat work. His grip tightens on her wrists. Each time, the force pushes her breath from her lungs in sighs and incoherent pleas that spike his instinct to go faster. She’s lost to the slap of his skin on hers and the limpness of her own submission. In the vast expanse she knows nothing but the sound of his voice in her ear, the hard press of him, that necessary weight. 

She tenses at the sharp inner clutch and smothers her cries in the pillow. Her body does this without her permission, her hands opening and closing helplessly while Jimmy follows his pleasure to the stuttering end. He hips make a final, weak shove and she recognizes her name right on her shoulder, through an open kiss, desperation in every syllable. The hot slick of him follows soon after and seeps between her legs. 

She makes a little sound of protest when Jimmy recovers and returns her to her back; blood tingles through her freed hands. He distributes kisses from the far edge of her collarbone to the inlet at her neck, all the way up to her parted lips. Gentle hands bracket her face, and his eyes drift in a lazy appreciation across her flushed features. 

“Have I made it up to you, my darling?”

She turns her smile into his palm and murmurs a yes there. Satisfied, Jimmy tries again.

“How does a late breakfast sound?”

She yawns and stretches, a grin forming. “Haven’t you just eaten?”

Jimmy leans down to nip her breast. “I’d like a helping of something more substantial, darling.”

She sifts her fingers through his hair. “Never sated, are you?”

He shakes his head against her chest then scoots closer to hover inches above her face. In a slow gesture, the backs of his fingers graze the slope of her cheek, and he studies her with sharp, bright eyes. The sudden shift is startling. There’s a permanent attachment in his look, the moment compressing into deep adoration. Jimmy nudges her nose with his and his lips curve, eyes creasing at the sides.

“ _ Never _ .” 


End file.
